Authors' Notes:
Disclaimer: We don't own anything related to Twilight and sadly that means Edward. Although he owns us. Hard.
We'd both like to thank our pervy girls for being, well, pervs. BL awaits! Tammy, again, you rock, hard. And a big thank you to Rob this week. Thanks for giving us a serious mind fuck and big ass crotch explosions with those VF photos of yours. Maineward pwns us. Hard.
::bass music thumps in the background::
AnonySwan: Hey Cullen, you almost ready?
AnonyCullen: Yeah, just putting on the finishing touches! Be right there!
AnonySwan: ::practices some salsa moves while getting two shot glasses out::
AnonyCullen: Ok, I'm ready!
AnonySwan: Damn Cullen, you are looking hot tonight!
AnonyCullen: ::spins around showing off her barely there dress:: You like?
AnonySwan: Uh... yeah! Muy caliente!
AnonyCullen: Shots?
AnonySwan: Just one. We have to celebrate.
AnonyCullen: Celebrate what?
AnonySwan: A hot night in Miami. You just never know who or what will happen..
AnonyCullen: Mmm, Patron. Excellent.
::takes shots::
AnonySwan: Mmm. Perfect.
Chapter One - Patron. Simply Perfect.
"Hey how you doin' little mama
Let me whisper in your ear
Tell you something that you
Might like to hear."
- YingYang Twins - The Whisper Song
Drink of the Night: Tequila; Patron
BPOV
"To being single!"
"To not having the last name Newton!"
"To divorce!"
The clinking of glass echoed in the room, followed by a sudden burst of drunken laughter. I threw back the shot glass letting the lukewarm tequila slide down my throat, anticipating the burn that was short to follow.
"Holy crap, that was rough," the young man on my left chuckled, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his palm. He staggered a bit before falling into a small redhead alongside him. An eruption of infectious laughter filled my ears. "Work is going to kill me tomorrow, I'm so drunk."
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow would be the beginning stages of my divorce; my divorce that had turned very public and had caught quite a lot of media attention. I had been married for the past nine years to Mike Newton - high school sweetheart and America's sweetheart reporting sports from ESPN. Sweetheart my ass.
We had spent our teenage years together in Washington in a small town called Forks. Prior to living in Forks, I had lived in Arizona with my mother Renee and her boyfriend Phil. They had met the summer of my eighth grade year and by the start of my freshman semester they had wed. Slow and easy was never my mother's style. I never complained about Phil, to be honest he was a great step father and he was wonderful to my mother. He filled a void in her that I was never able to reach and I was happy for that.
Phil's dream of playing in the major leagues caught the better of him one fall. He and my mother started traveling, scouting out the circuits, trying to find a place for him on a minor league team. More and more I was left at home, not that I minded much; I liked my time alone. I became very self sufficient and thanked the kitchen Gods above that I had taken home economics a few semesters prior. During my freshman summer, my father in Forks, Charlie, had started pressuring me to live with him. I wasn't too keen on the idea, but I knew Renee harbored a significant amount of guilt in her heart for leaving me at home so frequently. With a heavy heart I took a red-eye flight to my father's, packing only a few changes of clothes and not much of my personal items. All my possessions were left in Arizona in hope that one day I would get to come home.
Things were awkward upon my arrival; Charlie and I hadn't spent more than a few days at a time together for the passed 10 years, so meeting Mike on my first day at my new high school seemed like a fresh breath of air. For some strange reason I was instantly attracted to him, although he wasn't the type I usually sprung for. He wasn't much taller than me, was average build, lacked a few muscles here and there and wasn't much of an athlete, although he often claimed to be. However, his blue eyes were warm and inviting, his jokes were funny and his grin was infectious. Mike and I quickly became inseparable. We were in many of each other classes in school; I even took a job working in his parent's store just to be close to him in the evenings.
In the middle of my senior year, shortly after my 18th birthday, life as I knew it, was turned upside down. My father was shot while working on the job. I remember clearly crying in the Principal's office, curling myself into a fetal position in the chair while Mike tried his best to comfort me. Both Renee and Phil had flown in at record time and were there for the funeral along with all the legal proceedings that came with Charlie's death. Since I was considered a legal adult and Charlie's next of kin, I was given his house, along with a decent-sized settlement from a government fund.
Mike and I had decided to marry right out of high school and moved into Charlie's old house. We had opted to put Charlie's settlement in the bank, promising we wouldn't touch it unless it was for a dire emergency. Both of us had went straight from high school to working in the Outfitter's full-time. I was happy and content without going to college, Mike however was not. Mike grew restless with small town life; his mood swings were becoming erratic and he had taken up to drinking quite frequently.
In an effort to save our marriage, I suggested Mike should go to college, offering up the money I had inherited from Charlie. He chose a school in Florida much to my disappointment. We couldn't afford the overly expensive rent of an apartment, so Mike stayed in a small off campus flat while I stayed in our home in Forks.
Despite the circumstances, our lives were going well for the first couple of years. Mike would flood my computer with endless emails, my phone bill skyrocketed from the minutes used, and he would even fly home every other month where we would lock ourselves in the bedroom and make love for hours on end. However, everything came to a fold quickly when Mike entered his junior year of college. He was awarded an internship at ESPN-Miami, where he met a well known producer. He had spent that summer in Florida instead of his normal summer visit to Forks. Mike's once loving and sometimes erotic phone calls were now spent gushing about the producer. He talked about his wealthy background, his lifestyle, and his new interest in Mike. Before Mike even finished his senior year of college, he was given a trial run on the channel as a sports caster. He soon went from his small, untidy flat to a larger condo in downtown Miami. He no longer hung at the local bars, instead he was brushing elbows with Miami's elite. Slowly what little time Mike had set aside for us became less frequent. The only part that was happening quickly in our relationship was the amount of money being drained from our savings on his behalf.
I had decided then and there I hated this TV producer and every part of his being.
I was 27 when I decided to make an impromptu trip to Florida. I packed what I could, and put the rest in storage in Charlie's basement. It was evident that Mike wasn't returning home to Forks so I thought in order to save our marriage moving to Florida was a necessity. When I arrived I was greeted by a very different Mike than I once knew.
No longer was he Mike Newton, sweet high school wanna-be jock with the warm blue eyes and freckled cheeks. He was Mike Newton, Miami's most sought after television personality. His life consisted of long hours of work, large sums of money, and more than enough Dom Perignon to last a lifetime.
Mike didn't seem to happy upon my arrival in Miami. There was a noticeable distance between us and moving my personal belongings into his condo seemed to irritate him to the hilt. His job kept him long hours, and for the second time in my life I was left alone more often than I wanted. I ventured out into Miami, scouring for jobs, and eventually was hired at the Miami Times as a receptionist. It wasn't much, the pay was pretty minimal, but it was enough to get me out of the home that I felt so unwelcome in.
I saw less and less of Mike with each passing week. He would come home momentarily without so much as a "hello" and leave again. I felt miserable, and often contemplated giving up. Then, I would see Charlie's face in my mind. I was determined not to end up like him and Renee had so many years earlier. I was bound to make my marriage work.
Working at the Miami Times, I was privileged to meet Cynthia Brandon, a young spunky red head who worked as a gossip columnist. She was wonderful, showing me the ins and outs of the company. Pretty soon with Cynthia's endless encouragement, I had managed to work my way up, landing the coveted role of the editor's assistant. My boss, Jacob Black was a great man. He was young, witty, personable, and was always willing to lend a helping hand to his employees. He was an absolute pleasure to work for, not to mention completely fucking gorgeous. He had chocolate brown eyes that you could drown in, the cutest childlike dimples and a body that made made my girl bits dance with excitement. Between him and Cynthia, I felt like I actually had a reason to wake up each morning; my life didn't revolve around Mike anymore.
"Bella?"
My head snapped up to see Alice, Cynthia's older sister, who also happened to be my lawyer, staring at me. Cynthia had introduced me to her when she found out about the personal hell I had been going through with Mike. Alice was fresh out of law school, and was considered a 'risk' to most, however I liked her from the start. She was bold, gorgeous and full of spunk just like her sister. She wasn't afraid to tell anybody off, and most of all she hated Mike with a passion. She hated sports, so needless to say she wasn't a fan of ESPN. Alice had quickly become one of closest friends.
My cheeks flushed crimson red and I shuffled my feet a bit before meeting her glaze. She quirked her head momentarily before nodding. She had come accustomed to my miniature space-case moments and now it was quite common for her to witness them more than a few times a week. She eyed me carefully before offering me a reassuring smile.
"Bella uhm...?" Cynthia interrupted. "That guy . . ." she pointed towards the opposite direction of the bar. ". . . has been staring at you for quite some time now."
I looked in the direction her finger was pointing in, and in the shadows I saw two men, both of them casually leaning against the bar, both with drinks in hand. The two of them were gorgeous, dressed impeccably in dark suits, tall and lean, one a bit more muscular than the other. The bigger of the two was situated in the corner of the bar, a cell phone resting between his cocked head and his broad shoulder, a grin spread from widely across his face. He seemed to be engaging in a rather playful conversation, while the other, a tall bronzed-hair man stood rigid even though the club had a rather relaxed atmosphere. Cynthia was right, he was staring in my direction. Even through the smokiness of the club, I could unmistakably see his green eyes penetrating through me.
I gulped and looked down at my clothes. I suddenly felt very foolish and very under dressed wearing just a simple shirt and jeans. I hadn't planned on going out, I had planned a nice quiet 'Eve of My Divorce Bash' with myself, a cheap bottle of wine, re-runs of Sex and the City and the comfort of my nice snug apartment. However, my friends seemed to have completely different plans. Cynthia begged me throughout the day, pleading with me to come have a pre-celebratory drink with her and Alice. When Jacob got wind of our small impromptu gathering, he decided he would tag along, for 'our protection' of course.
After the last fax come through the AP wire at work, we gladly locked up heading straight down to Ocean Drive. My small apartment was just a hop, skip and a jump away, resting peacefully underneath a local clothing store on the north side of the avenue. Surprisingly, I couldn't help but feel slightly giddy as we walked through the crowds of people and the brightly lit neon signed buildings. Ocean Drive had been one of my favorite nighttime destinations since I arrived here. I wasn't much for partying, however the diversity of the area really appealed to me.
"You should go talk to him," I heard Cynthia squeal nearly into my ear, her voice loud and clear even through the pounding of the music.
"No, most definitely not," I argued, as I ordered another drink from the bar. "Besides," I mumbled looking towards the handsome man again. "He's out of my league and I'm still married."
I heard a slight scoff coming from Jake's direction and caught a glimpse of him momentarily rolling his eyes before he situated himself away from me in the bar stool, facing his gaze towards the man we had been ogling over.
"That guy?" Jake pointed above the crowd to the nearby bar counter. "You think you're out of that guy's league, Bella? Are you fucking kidding me?"
Alice pushed her way towards me, catching onto Jake's spurt of jealousy. She smacked his shoulder and gave him a quick glaring stare before she began to speak.
"Nonsense, Bella, you're gorgeous and yes, true, you are married, but . . . well . . . you really haven't been for a long time," Alice murmured, her gaze flicking towards the floor.
Shit. Alice had me there. Mike and I hadn't acted like married couple since, well since a few years after high school and sex . . . let's not even go there. I couldn't remember the last time I had reached the big 'O'.
Sighing, I took a rather large sip of my drink, trying to soothe my nerves. Trembling, I ran my hand through my hair, frowning at the mass amount of tangles I had received while dancing with the girls earlier in the night. I straightened my shirt, tried to push up what little breasts I had, and with very unsteady legs made my way through the club in his direction.
As I neared, I suddenly felt foolish. My nerves seemed to be winning the small internal battle my body was waging against itself. So badly I wanted to turn around, run back to the comfort of my friends, but I knew better. After tomorrow I would officially be on my own again, single - on the market. At least I could practice. As I continued, my cheeks flushed crimson red, my skin became poker hot, and I felt the slightest bit faint. My eyes darted to the floor nervously, I couldn't bring it upon myself to gaze into his eyes.
"Hi. I . . . I am . . ."
Fuck Bella, come on. Hitting on a guy isn't seriously that hard. Just say hi, and tell him your name.
Steadying myself against the bar I began again, trying a different approach, something not quite as direct. Breathing in, I talked slowly this time, nearly over pronouncing my words.
"My friends and I would like you and your friend to join us. We're over there," I racked my body around, pointing towards Alice and Cynthia who were both waving like lunatics. I prayed he wouldn't notice Jacob and his disapproving scowl obvious even from across the bar.
I had expected him to answer by now, at least a simple acknowledgement that I was standing there would have been nice. Gathering all my strength I peered up at him through my lashes and was surprised when I was met with the perfectly woven fabric of his jacket. His back was turned to me and he seemed to be ignoring me completely.
"Ex . . . excuse me?" I stuttered. My nerves were slowly dissolving; a bit of annoyance was taking the reigns now. To man up and admit he wasn't interested in talking was one thing, to completely give me the cold shoulder and ignore my presence was a complete other.
He turned slowly, facing me, his green eyes settling onto mine. My breath hitched in my throat. He was gorgeous. Eyeing him across the bar hadn't given me the pleasure of seeing the painfully perfect features of his face, the soft glow of high lights in his hair, and the toned stature of his body. The suit he was wearing was fashionable, looked rather expensive, and seemed to be professionally pressed. His eyes fell from mine, his gaze spreading across my body from my shoulders down the very tips of my toes. The slightest smirk spread across his face and he let out a faint chuckle.
"I see this particular club isn't very strict with enforcing their dress codes. When did Ocean Drive get a Walmart?" he snipped in my direction, finishing off the drink he had been holding.
I stood silent for a moment, my jaw nearly hitting the floor. My brain couldn't process his nasty words quickly enough. I turned just as tears started to sting my eyes. I wouldn't let him see me cry, not here while he reveled in the satisfaction. For the life of me I couldn't help but think what I could have possibly done to him for him to deliver such harsh words.
Walking away quickly, nearly stumbling over my own two feet, I saw the concerned looks of Alice and Cynthia, and the rather relieved one from Jake.
"He's waiting for somebody," I lied not meeting the gaze of my three friends. I didn't want to lie, but yet at the same time I couldn't quite face up to the cold, hard truth. He had turned me down. Not only turned me down, but insulted me in the process.
Alice frowned, giving my back a quick little rub, while Jake seemed to be smiling smugly to himself as he leaned into Cynthia. Staring down into my empty glass I gave an exasperated sigh. "More shots anyone?"
"I'm out on this one," Cynthia giggled as she pushed Jake off her shoulder, sending him teetering on his feet nearly stumbling into a nearby bar stool.
"Me too," Alice piped in, following her sisters lead. "Actually, I have to get out of here. Tomorrow is the big day and a few more hours of prep wouldn't hurt. I heard Mike's lawyer is a real prick in the courtroom." Flashing a mini reassuring smile towards me, she flicked a twenty on the counter, pushing her empty glass towards the bartender.
"Take care of my girl," Cynthia laughed as she pat Jacob on his chest, rolling her eyes and kissing him slightly on the cheek. "I'll see you at work tomorrow, Jake, should be fun." He smiled and slinked further back in his stool, crossing his arms, oblivious to her well pronounced eye antics.
"Take care of him," Alice whispered in my ear as she walked by, winking as she left, sashaying her way her way to the nearest exit.
Once Alice and Cynthia had completely disappeared, I turned toward Jacob, who was still slouched in the bar stool, his eyes looking heavy, his fingers still grasping at his shot glass.
"Come on, Jake, let's get you home," I grabbed at the glass but Jacob was too quick even in his near drunken state. He popped from the bar stool, slamming the empty glass on the counter, making the small female bartender jump behind the bar.
"Can I get you something, sir?" she asked, obviously still a little shaken.
"Two more shots! We're celebrating a divorce!" he shouted over the bar over pronunciating his last few words.
My face immediately flushed red listening to the few snickers of the patrons behind us. "Jake, really, I think it would be best if you went home-" I started before Jake wrapped his strong arms around my waist, pulling me into his broad frame.
"No, Bells, we're celebrating. I promised you today at work we'd have fun and for fucks sake that's what we're going to do."
Looking at Jake I couldn't help but smile. Everything about him was addicting. His infectious smile, his laugh that seemed to hurdle through the crowd, his childlike demeanor. I couldn't help but grin as I watched him, his movements slower than usual, the liquor obviously taking full effect. What I wouldn't have given to skip my court date tomorrow and watch the inevitable hangover Jake was sure to walk in with the next morning. I let myself fall into his chest, laughing into the softness of his shirt. "Okay, Jake, you win."
"Two tequilas," the bartender shouted over the crowd, sliding the two glasses in our direction.
Grabbing the shots in one hand, Jacob turned to me, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. "Shot?"
Reaching out hesitantly, I let my fingers grasp the small glass cup, swallowed hard, and dreaded the inevitable burn that was going to quickly come.
"Cheers, Bella!" Jake smiled as he clinked his glass with mine.
I returned his smile, looking into the glass and taking a deep breath. "Cheers," I replied. The hint of tequila barely grazed my lips when the the man who had insulted me grabbed my wrist in midair. His stare was cold and stern, as he pried the glass from my hand and sniffed it.
"Jose, I presume?" His voice hit me so hard I nearly fell off my chair. He wasn't the pompous ignorant jerk I had met moments ago, instead he was sultry, sexy, even a bit sensual.
"Is that a problem?" Jake responded, most certainly agitated by the disruption.
"It is if you have poor taste, which clearly, you do," the mystery man spat back. He never once removed his eyes from me. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "Let me show you what real tequila tastes like."
Who in the hell did he think he was? First mocking my looks, my style, the way I dressed, and now he was snubbing Jake.
He pushed forward over the bar leaning slightly into me, his divine scent assaulting me. Just like his voice, it was sultry, deep . . . raw. He snapped his fingers twice, grabbing the bartender's attention. "Two shots of your finest tequila. Top shelf."
The bartender seemed distracted by him, ignoring his obviously pompous nature. She smiled sweetly at him. "Two shots of Patron coming up."
"Patron," he snuffed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I suppose that'll do."
Jacob stirred next to me, his right hand still still protective at my waist. All three watched as the bartender poured two shots, and slid them towards us. Turning to meet my gaze, the man pushed one of the shots towards me, his eyes flicking toward Jake as I took the shot and grasped the cool glass between my fingers
"Not as good as I would prefer but better than the piss you were drinking before." His eyes met Jacob's, who was more than likely sneering. "You'll notice it runs much smoother as it hits your palette; warming you on the inside, making you feel . . . aroused."
I swallowed deeply. He sure was a smooth fucker. An asshole, none the less.
"Salute," he said as he threw the shot back. I watched him as he swallowed the liquid in one gulp, his throat bobbing up and down. His head tilted back momentarily and his eyes closed. I couldn't quite be certain, but I thought he slightly moaned. I realized I had yet to take mine, but I could not tear my eyes away from him. He was so . . . mesmerizing.
Both Jacob and the man with the now empty shot glass stared at me, waiting on my next move. Knowing I would regret my decision, knowing Jacob was sure to get hurt, I drank the shot hesitantly. He had been right. This was better than what Jake had gotten us. It was smooth and didn't have the least bit of bite like cheap tequila normally did. I couldn't help but shut my eyes as I let the warmth envelope me.
"Arousing, right?" he questioned, breaking me from my thoughts.
"Oh, I've had better," I replied.
He scoffed. "Somehow I doubt that."
Jake suddenly cleared his throat. I had been so clouded by this man I completely forgot about Jake. Without a word, my eyes still focused on nothing but him, I grabbed Jake's hand and pulled him toward the dance floor. Jacob was slightly hesitant, but continued to follow me through the crowd of people, breaking into a smile when he realized what lay in sight.
"Thanks for the shot," I laughed over my shoulder to the man I had left at the bar. "Now onto better things," I nearly murmured to myself as I felt Jake fold me into his arms, our bodies pressing together and grinding in beat to the music.
****
EPOV
Fuck that guy.
My dick was throbbing. What the fuck was this girl doing to me? I grabbed at my pants, pressed my groin against the bar and shifted myself painfully, praying that nobody was watching, praying that Emmett was still distracted with his phone call.
Fucking cockblocker.
I eyed him again. He was dancing with her out on the dance floor; even in the crowd his massive stature stood out. I could take him . . . maybe.
Okay, so . . . fucking cockblocker with big fucking arms.
Big fucking arms wrapped around the only thing that had caught my attention in the bar.
Her eyes were glued to mine as she wrapped her body around his. She was taunting me, teasing me. She knew this. Her back was pressed against his broad frontal frame. Her delicate arms were extended above her, her tiny fingers winding themselves around his neck, and racking through his hair. I imagined what they would feel like wrapped around my dick. Her ass was grinding into his pelvic bone, and I couldn't help but cringe as a slight hint of jealousy spread through my body like wildfire. All I could think was what it would feel like to have that same ass pressed against me as I bent her over.
"Edward," Emmett interrupted, closing his phone and smiling wide. "Keys, man. I need your keys."
"Fuck off. You have your limo and driver with you. Tell him to take you home," I scoffed, taking another sip of the sweet cognac I had been babying since we arrived, my eyes still firmly planted on . . . her.
"Oh come on, man. Here," he said as he rummaged through his pockets and produced a small wad of bills. "Not like you need this, but here take it. Tonight is on me bro, feel free to buy whatever you want. Come on man, please. There is more than enough room in there for you," he pleaded with me, shoving the cash in my jacket pocket.
I quirked my head at his last statement. Room, more than enough room. Room for me to bend her over the expensive leather seats and hear her scream my name. Room.
I sighed in defeat, digging through my back pocket, producing a single solitary key. Dangling it before him momentarily, I quickly snatched it out of his grasp as he tried to reach for it. "Not a fucking scratch. Are we clear?"
Emmett's grin spread even wider, and it almost appeared as his feet seemed to be dancing in his shoes. "Fucking crystal, bro. Crystal," he laughed as he grabbed the key, turning to barrel out of the club nearly knocking a few patrons over in his overly anxious departure.
Shaking my head, I turned to face the dance floor again, only to notice they were missing. Dammit, Emmett, I silently scolded my brother, blaming him for my inability to keep a close eye on her.
I took a quick glance around the club. Not only was she gone, but her dicky boyfriend, fuck buddy, queer friend, whatever the fuck he was, had left as well. Sighing heavily, I ran my fingers through my hair and prepared to pay my tab, wincing at the fact that I had actually bought a drink for a girl and she wouldn't be accompanying me home. That never happened to Edward Cullen.
A loud shuffling sound and the rearranging of a few barstools next to me caught my attention. The queer ogre friend stood next to me, his body twice the size of mine.
"She's leaving with me you know,'' he spoke, his eyes fixated across the bar.
"I doubt that," I spat back in his face, chuckling out loud.
Turning his massive frame towards me. He moved in closer, filling the large gap between us, and successfully knocked the remnants of my drink onto my shirt, the caramel colored liquid staining my white button down immediately.
I chuckled again, a smirk finding its way to my face. "I believe you have a cab to catch." I rummaged through my pockets and pulled out the generous portion of money Emmett had given me moments before. Still laughing, I placed the money in front of him on the bar and patted his shoulders. "My treat." This guy really needed to leave now.
"I am not leaving her. I told you she was going home with me." The fire in his eyes was burning. So, he liked her; he wasn't queer. Great not only was I dealing with a man than could have passed as a quarter back, I was dealing with a straight man that was probably more than willing to beat my ass. Although, I couldn't blame him for a second.
However he needed to realize one simple fact. I was Edward Cullen. I always got what I wanted. I wanted her.
Did this pity of a fool honestly not know who I was?
I laughed. "This is where you're sadly mistaken. I suggest you leave before I make you regret it, buddy."
To be honest, I wasn't sure if it was the slight chuckles, the sneers or the fact that I called him buddy, but I finally got my way. I watched, ecstatic, as he was pushed over the edge. A growl rumbled in his chest and the muscles in his arms flexed as he pushed against me. Catching me off guard, I nearly lost my balance, stumbling into a few barstools behind me. I smiled as I heard the bar patrons gasping, some yelling, some laughing as they watched the fight beginning to unfold in front of them. I couldn't help but join in their laughter. This was one fight I was definitely winning. He may have been bigger than me, but what he inherited in brawn, I gained in brains.
"Go ahead and hit me. I know you want to," I sneered towards him, offering my jaw up like a dart board. Hit the bullseye. He drew back his fight and caught me square in the jaw. It stung slightly, but such a small price to pay for what was about to happen to him.
"Back off of her, asshole," he ground out as he shook his hand, the stinging obviously effecting him too.
"No, I think you're the asshole here," I laughed as security began to make their way over to us. See ya later 'buddy'.
"You're outta here!" a burly security guard shouted grabbing Jake by the collar. "Time to say goodnight."
His eyes turned cold as he realized what I had done. Really, I thought he would have been a bit more intelligent, this had been much too easy. I placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. "I believe she'll be going home with me, thanks." He tried to free himself of the security guard's hold, but the man was much too strong, even for Jake. Shaking my head at his stupidity, I watched greedily as they pulled him away from the bar, from me, and most of all from her.
"Some fools can't ever hold their liquor," I smiled to the female bartender who had taken a stance at the edge of the bar to watch the drama.
"Oh, sir, I am so sorry! Let me get you a towel for your lip. Oh no, you're bleeding!"
Bringing my fingers to my lip, I drew back to see the slightest bit of red staining my fingertips. Perfect. My plan was unfolding better than I had suspected.
I shrugged my shoulders. "No towel necessary, but you should really watch your service. Keep over-serving your customers and this could land you in some real legal trouble. I'm a lawyer. I see these type of cases all the time."
"Shit, I'm so sorry. Here, let me get you a refill on your drink," the poor, scared, girl mustered up.
"Actually . . ." I piped up. "Two more shots of Patron. I won't mention this to your manager," I sneered towards her, straightening out my shirt and jacket.
"Su . . . sure. Here, on the house!" She poured the shots with a shaky hand, sliding them over the smooth marble of the countertop, spilling some on the bar.
"Thanks, doll," I winked. "For your troubles." I threw the bundle of Emmett's cash on the counter. I wasn't certain how much Emmett had given me, but I was almost positive if it came from his wallet it had to be in the hundreds. Her eyes widened as a few more 'thank yous' and 'sorrys' spilled past her lips.
Turning away from the bar, I scanned the room once more looking for my girl to return. My girl? Yes, where was she?
"Your face. It looks alot better now," I heard a small voice beside me.
I turned to meet her, my girl.
"I saw Jake hit you. I don't blame him. If I could have left a mark, I probably would have done it myself," she piped towards me.
Taking a chance I shifted my body towards her, the front of my jacket and stained shirt grazing her chest.
"Why didn't you go after your boy?" I mused breathing in her ear, snickering to myself as goosebumps rippled across her skin.
"Because he's not mine," she inhaled deeply, her eyes drifting up my body, finally resting on my own.
Pushing another shot glass her direction, I watched in pleasure as she took the shot in one swift gulp. A small guttural growl suddenly escaped my throat as I watched her lick her lips clean. Pushing further into her, I couldn't help but groan in her ear when I felt the backside of her hand graze the zipper of my pants.
Her eyes widened in surprise, her tongue returning to lick her parted lips once again. Grabbing the collar of my shirt, she turned leading me towards the dance floor. My body seemed to condense when the tips of my Tanino Crisci's hit the dance floor.
Edward Cullen didn't fucking dance.
Her body immediately started to sway to the music, her hips advancing quicker as the beat pulsed through my ear drum. Her steady grip on my shirt never loosened as the music changed its beat. Turning to face me, she pulled me closer. Surprisingly, my hips instinctively started to move with hers, the cotton hem of my slacks creating a undescribable friction against my groin. It had been the first time I had danced with a girl. Ever.
My hands suddenly craved her just as much as the rest of my body did. I needed to touch her, feel her rich succulent skin underneath my voracious fingertips. Soft, erratic breaths spilled from her mouth, the heat from her gasps tickled at my neck, my dick nearly unloading against her. Her slender fingertips loosened against my shirt, finding their way up north, getting themselves tangled in my hair. She tugged softly, the feeling almost becoming too much.
My body started to tingle; I was so captivatingly warm. I felt so exquisite that I knew I needed to do something, or the price of finishing early in my pants and making an embarrassment of myself was a distinct possibility. Edward Cullen didn't get embarrassed.
Prying my unwilling fingers from her hips, I took her cheeks within my palms, brushing my thumbs over the smooth, now blushing skin of her cheeks. Leaning towards her, I could not resist inhaling her scent. Not only was I feeling the slight buzz from the tequila but from her as well . . . my girl.
I felt her shudder from underneath my touch. She was like putty under my hands. I knew she would follow me wherever I went. The time to go was now.
Slowly dragging my nose from the nape of her soft neck, I placed a soft kiss under the delicate shell of her ear. A small moan passed her lips and she pressed her breasts further into my own chest. Sucking in a final breath, I decided to seal the deal with my girl.
Leaning in, my lips momentarily brushed against hers. Breathing in deeply she held her breath as I massaged her soft pink pout with my tongue. Her body went limp in my arms, a whimper escaping her mouth as I tore my lips from hers.
I had her.
She stared at me through hooded eyes as we walked through the club, her small hand tangled within mine. Emmett and I had frequented this particular club enough for me to know where the back entrance was located. I didn't need to waltz this women out the front door for all of Miami to see. I could only hope Emmett's limo driver had parked in the rear of the building.
My lips suddenly felt the urgent need to be pressed against hers once again as we exited the club into the sticky Miami heat. Pressing her up against a nearby brick wall, I palmed her face once more, my lips hungrily searching for hers. Her moans filled my mouth in a sudden rush, my dick hardening after every pant.
"I don't know you, but I need to feel you," she murmured against my lips.
Turning my head slightly I searched the parking lot, sighing in relief when I spotted Emmett's limo parked nearby. Bending down, I grabbed both of her legs with force, lifting her, giving her access to wrap herself around me. She grabbed at my jacket as I swiftly covered the distance over the paved lot, planting open mouth kisses along my collar bone.
The driver was sleeping in the front seat, a newspaper fanned across his fattened stomach. A slight hard rap against the window sent him nearly tumbling out of the car in fright, fumbling with his crinkled jacket and sideways cap.
"S . . . s . . . sir," he stammered, rubbing his eyes of sleep.
Setting my girl down, her feet gently touching the pavement, I opened the back door myself, offering my hand as she guided herself into the plush leather of the backseat.
"Where to sir?" the valet asked behind me.
Ducking down, I looked in the vicinity of the limo. My girl was sitting before me, her eyes hooded, her breathing still slightly erratic. It didn't take much to see she was still highly aroused, and the thought of her warmth spilling over me confirmed my next thoughts.
"Home," I murmured taking in her beauty.
Turning to the driver, I noticed he wouldn't meet my gaze; he was staring over the top of the limo into what seemed to be space. I had met him numerous times before, he was a personal driver of Emmett's. He had even escorted Tanya and I away from the church on our wedding day. He knew who I was, he knew about Tanya, he knew of my marriage.
Digging through my pocket I produced a few large bills. Tucking them into the safety of his jacket pocket, I smirked. "This stays between us, agreed?" I looked at him sternly, forcing him to meet my stare.
"Ye . . . yes sir,'' he stammered.
"Perfect," I smiled at him, turning to climb into the seat next to my girl. The door closed behind us and I was met with two greedy palms, a forceful kiss and the sound of moans once against filling my ears. "Just fucking perfect," I mumbled into her mouth.
AnonySwan: Cullen, did you see all the hot guys in there tonight?
AnonyCullen: I couldn't take my eyes off of any of them.
AnonySwan: And that fight? How hot is that?
AnonyCullen: I wouldn't have minded those two fighting over me...
AnonySwan: It's too bad they all left before we had a chance to introduce ourselves.
AnonyCullen: Don't worry, I'm sure we'll bump into them again.
AnonySwan: I hope so. Come on let's go, my feet hurt from all that dancing.
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